


Roadhouse Run-in

by NeonTinkerbell



Category: Supernatural, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 22:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12827109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonTinkerbell/pseuds/NeonTinkerbell
Summary: Near immortality can feel like a blessing or a curse, but either way, it will leave you with a small tolerance for people getting in your face. Dean’s about to find that out the hard way.





	Roadhouse Run-in

The afternoon sun beat down on the roof of the black Impala as it pulled into the parking lot of the Roadhouse, and the two figures that emerged from it were visibly sweating.

The taller of the two shot a look over the roof of the car at his brother, "Couldn't you have gotten air conditioning installed by now?"

"What's the matter Sammy, having the windows down and the breeze in your hair not good enough for you?"

Sam just shook his head in response, his long brown locks swaying gently. Eager to be under shelter from the oppressive heat, he lead the way into the roadside bar. Giving one last look his prized car, Dean followed him inside

Once inside they were greeted by the usual familiar faces, Jo and Ash were entertaining themselves with a game of pool, Ellen was nowhere in sight, although she was probably out back bringing in more stock.

“Sam! Up here buddy, you still owe me a rematch from last time,” Ash called, his redneck grin lighting his face.

Dean scanned the bar as his brother moved off to accept the challenge, it was quieter than normal, only a few hunters were scattered around the tables, drinking, talking or cleaning their weapons.

The only person who looked out of place was the short blond with a cropped shaggy haircut, who was seated at the bar. He studied her for a moment, admiring the various tattoos that adorned her arms and neck, as well as the dragon emerging from her black tank-top that snaked its way across her back under the base of her neck.

Two forked martial arts weapon replicas were tucked into the waistband of her jeans and Dean cringed inside. She was obviously some kind of wannabe hunter groupie that had found this place out of sheer luck. Or maybe a one night stand with a mouthy hunter had let slip the bars whereabouts and it's patrons unusual occupations.

Still she was definitely cute and although she wasn’t his usual type, it had been a while though. If she had a thing for hunters then all the better for him. 

He sauntered over to the stool next to her and slid onto it with practised ease.

“Hey, name’s Dean, I haven't seen you around her before?”

The blond tilted her head slightly towards him giving him an impassive look, her cool jade eyes meet his and he blinked. He hadn’t expected this woman to have the seasoned glint in her eye that marked so many of the veteran hunters he had met.

Unimpressed, her attention returned the replay of last nights football game, the cheers of the crowd blaring from the TVs tiny speakers.

“So uh, been doing this gig for a while then huh?” His line of questioning prompted no response from her, although he could have sworn something about her had shifted. His stare travelled down to meet that of the great wolf that covered the entirety of her left arm, it’s unblinking eyes cold and challenging. Had they always been like that?

Now more curious about her life than her bedroom skills, Dean was not deterred from continuing his so far one-sided conversation. “Hey come on, you can’t sit up at the bar if you’re not going to talk,” he said as he reached out for her shoulder.

Before he could touch her, so quick he almost missed it, her foot snapped out and the heel of her tan combat boot slammed into the leg of his bar stool, sending it screeching and spinning out from underneath him as he toppled to the floor.

Ellen burst from the back room, drawn to the sound of a disturbance in her bar. Catching sight of Dean attempting to pick himself up gracefully and failing miserably, she stopped and planted her hands on her hips.

“Lord, can’t you boys keep yourselves out of trouble for five minutes!”

Dean's eyes stretched incredulously as he gestured at the still seated woman and spluttered, “But I… She..?”

“Enough, now get your butt up off the ground and come over here so I can get you a drink.”

Now standing, Dean opened his mouth to protest and was interrupted once again, this time by a low rich voice that called out from the entrance of the Roadhouse.

“Gabrielle!”

All three of them turned to face the tall raven-haired newcomer leaning in the frame of the door, her brown leather jacket zipped up despite the heat and giving no signs that the black leather pants and riding boots were uncomfortable either.

She crooked her fingers at the small woman, who in response drained the rest of her beer, deposited some notes onto the bar, scooped up her black leather jacket and cherry riding helmet, and strode out the door after her companion, a soft smile having now appeared on her face. 

As soon as she was gone, Dean whirled back to face Ellen, “Just what the hell-”

“Language!” She interjected, “And I know your ego may be a little bruised Dean honey but be thankful that's the only part of you that's hurting, she must have been in a good mood.”

“What?!... A good mood?!” Dean, still not having managed to wipe the look of disbelief of his face, marched over to her where she was pouring a cold glass from the tap, “Ellen, just who were those woman?!”

“Listen to me closely Dean,” she said leaning onto the bar to meet his stare, her gaze growing steely. A small twinge of Deja Vu flickered through Dean's mind, “Those two are not the kind of people who you want to get caught up with, whenever they hunt they leave a trail of death and destruction in their wake. Your father didn’t want anything to do with them, and neither should you.”

The guttural roar of motorbike engines igniting to life drifted in from outside the bar and Ellen relaxed, a warm smile returned to her face, obviously hoping her warning had been enough to put him off, “Now, what can I get you to drink?”


End file.
